Saturday 23 June 1666

My father and sister very betimes took their leave; and my wife, with all possible kindnesse, went with them to the coach, I being mightily pleased with their company thus long, and my father with his being here, and it rejoices my heart that I am in condition to do any thing to comfort him, and could, were it not for my mother, have been contented he should have stayed always here with me, he is such innocent company. They being gone, I to my papers, but vexed at what I heard but a little of this morning, before my wife went out, that Mercer and she fell out last night, and that the girle is gone home to her mother’s for all-together: This troubles me, though perhaps it may be an ease to me of so much charge. But I love the girle, and another we must be forced to keepe I do foresee and then shall be sorry to part with her. At the office all the morning, much disquiett in my mind in the middle of my business about this girle. Home at noon to dinner, and what with the going away of my father today and the losse of Mercer, I after dinner went up to my chamber and there could have cried to myself, had not people come to me about business. In the evening down to Tower Wharfe thinking to go by water, but could not get watermen; they being now so scarce, by reason of the great presse; so to the Custome House, and there, with great threats, got a couple to carry me down to Deptford, all the way reading Pompey the Great (a play translated from the French by several noble persons; among others, my Lord Buckhurst), that to me is but a mean play, and the words and sense not very extraordinary. From Deptford I walked to Redriffe, and in my way was overtaken by Bagwell, lately come from sea in the Providence, who did give me an account of several particulars in the late fight, and how his ship was deserted basely by the York, Captain Swanly, commander. So I home and there after writing my letters home to supper and to bed, fully resolved to rise betimes, and go down the river to-morrow morning, being vexed this night to find none of the officers in the yarde at 7 at night, nor any body concerned as if it were a Dutch warr. It seems Mercer’s mother was here in the morning to speak with my wife, but my wife would not. In the afternoon I and my wife in writing did instruct W. Hewer in some discourse to her, and she in the evening did come and satisfy my wife, and by and by Mercer did come, which I was mighty glad of and eased of much pain about her.

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Annotations

Curious that Bess should, after all this time, fall out with Mercer to such an extent just after Sam's little note of praise...Of course, however desperate to believe Sam is still the knight who swept her off her feet and rescued her from poverty, Bess may be she can't be totally unaware of his outside interests.

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Heaven...

"Say, why did you fire Mercer that time?"

"You spent the whole night before going on about her fantastic breasts!"

"...I after dinner went up to my chamber and there could have cried to myself, had not people come to me about business...."

oh Sam, Sam! What other 17th century diarist is so candid with us. This entry rings down the years with sudden truth. We are there in his bed chamber, Sam slumping down with a candle, pulling his wig off and rubbing his eyes, heaving deep sighs - but then a call from below and he has to get up, smooth his clothes, put the wig back on, blow his nose and off back to business, neat, trim and in control.

At the office all the morning, much disquiett in my mind in the middle of my business about this girleSam has to think about her, she's beautiful, and so perky, drool, drool, Mercer rules and Sam drools. If only morning would come again, and time again to be dressed, yes, yes, drool, drool.

We've been here before. There is absolutely no reason to think that Bess got rid of Mercer because of some sexual possibilities between Pepys and Mercer*. She has a habit of losing her temper and sacking her staff - it's then become the function of Sam to calm her down and get everything back running smoothly. When he says that he loves her, I think that he's confessing his affectionate nature but not in a sexual way.

I'd like to know exactly when she and Mercer fell out last night, perhaps that's the real reason she stayed at her mother's rather than being locked out (which always seemed a lame excuse - the watchman would have let her back in).

I'm with Glyn on this. Sam shows true compassion for the loss of Mercer: "...what with the going away of my father today and the losse of Mercer, ... and there could have cried to myself."I can't imagine Pepys crying at losing the opportunity of a letch and/or grope, after all, he seems to have plenty of other opportunities. It appears we are seeing noble feelings presented here, beyond the baser lusts he often displays.

Hmmn...I still suspect Bess senses danger in Mercer and has sensed it in some of the other girls she's sacked previously. While I've always said I think some of the girls sacked have caught Bess flitching tiny sums from the household funds to keep Alex and Mum St. Michel alive, she can't be so much a part of the Diary's life and yet totally clueless as to Sam's nature. She may not be willing to admit her fears even to herself but it doesn't mean they don't appear in some form. All that combined with a volatile temper...Not an easy boss to work for is our Bess.

Spoiler...

Of course the amazing thing is that even after the final sack Mercer remains a close family friend.